Dedicated to those who gave up and lived to tell their story

by Jane Doe

I can feel other peoples pain. It used to be so bad that I lost focus. I've learned how to some what distance myself so that I can focus on what I need to do in order to move myself forward, and not be brought down to the point where I can't move.

I watched a single mom with three kids whom I admired for her strength give up. She's in a bad DV situation that also involves her being stalked. Her children are acting out because of it, so bad that she had been exited from a shelter. She pawned her laptop to pay for a hotel until she could figure out what to do on Monday since most services are not available on the weekends .

She has stomach cancer on top of being 4 months pregnant with a very high risk pregnancy. I picked up her 3 children and took them on an outing for 5 hours so that she could handle her business, and came back to her asleep. I saw the look on her face. She had the same look I did when I had given up last year.

Lets backtrack to last year...

My son was visiting with his dad (thank God). My abuser had taken my car keys, house keys, and cell phone and told me that if I tried to leave him he would kill me. I asked him for one of my cigarettes, and he told me that I didn't deserve one. He was going off on how lucky I was to have him in my life, what an ungrateful bitch I was, and then reminded me how worthless I was and that nobody else would want me, and said I was a horrible mother.

He then told me to sleep outside and told me that if I made any noise or tried to sneak off the property he would kill me. I slept with the dogs to keep myself warm for 4 nights and 5 days until he finally let me in. He demanded that I called him "The Great one" which I did without question. He then took one of his cigars and burned his initials into my skin with a cigar. I didn't fight or make any noise, because I was too afraid that if I moved he would kill me. He said that the initals were to remind me that I should always do exactly as he says and not question him.

He left to go visit his mom. I took a bottle and a half of methacarbonal (a month and a half supply) because I knew that taking that many muscle relaxers would put me to sleep and then stop my heart. The pain was so bad I had given up. At the time I honestly believed my son would be better off without me.

A miracle happened and I am still alive. My abuser came home and shook me till I woke up. I was foaming out the mouth, and I had bug eyes. He asked me what I took. I pointed to the two bottles of pills I took. Instead of taking me to the hospital he undressed me and helped me get to the bathtub stating that I needed to take a bath because I smelled really bad, After words I couldn't get out of the tub and he had to carry me from the tub to our bed.

He never took me to the hospital. I was high from the effects of taking those pills, for several days afterwords. My bug eyes lasted for 5 days. He refused to let me talk to anyone on the phone or have any visitors because he said that what I did was shameful and I would just embarrass myself. He said he was worried I had some sort of brain damage and that's why my eyes looked like that. They finally went back to normal.

I never told anyone about trying to kill myself cause I thought they would just think I was crazy. I have not been suicidal after that day, but seeing the look in my friends eyes, reminded me of the day I gave up on myself. I was there, I lived it, and I survived it. I just hope she snaps out of it because she might not be as lucky as I was.

I am grateful to be alive, and I am excited that my life is moving forward. I want to someday be an advocate so that I can watch people go forward and grow like I did.

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Dreams really do come true if you work hard enough at it

by Jane Doe

I always dreamed about one day living in a log cabin as a child, and now that dream has become a reality. I can't tell you where or what state I am in even (due to my situation), but I can tell you that I am safe, happy, and moving forward in my new confidentual transitional housing.

I live on 10 acres in a completly secluded gated community, in a beautiful two story log house. There are 3 playgrounds, and even a zip line for the kids (or in my case big kids like me). There is a garden where they grow fresh fruits and vegitables.

The estate has two houses, and holds 8 lucky families total. I am pretty sure there is no place like this in the entire world. It is run completly on donations, and has no state help what so ever. It costs 25,000.00 a month to run.

I was curious how something so expensive could be run on just donations, with the economy the way it is. While I was organizing the book shelf, I ran into this huge live auction fundraiser booklet. They even had donations from Harley Davidson motorcycles and Alaska Airlines. Local churches also help support this place financially, as well as donate their time with yardwork etc.

There are 3 churches that will be be hiring me under the table so that I can make income without my abuser finding me. I have a top notch new counselor, and I get to meet with the woman who specializes in underground housing tomorrow. My son's Guardian Ad Liam comes on Saturday to do a walk through, and I'm tickled pink to see how this all turns out. I have such an amazing new life. I am so glad all my hard work is finally paying off. :)

The worste I have to worry about here is accidently driving over Elk poop! haha

About time I brought good news, huh?

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Poem dedicated to my abuser that I wrote called "I Got Away"

by Jane Doe

You won't hurt me today,
Cause I ran away.
You can't burn me with your cigars,
Or make me sleep outside in the cold,
If I didn't listen to you
And do what I was told.

You can't control me today,
Cause I got away.
You can't stalk or hit me anymore,
Or call me names like dirty whore.
Cause I found this wonderful place,
And now I am safe.

You can't throw me through,
A coffee table anymore,
Or choke me till I stop breathing,
With your abusive galore.
You won't abuse me today,
Cause I got away.

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4th of july blog

by Jane Doe

I hate how some of the things I used to love I can't enjoy like I used to. I used to love the 4th of July but now all I hear is gunshots.

I used to love waving the Chinese sparklers in wand like motions and pretending I was a magical fairy.

I used to love lighting one firecracker at a time with my dad to make the moment last that much longer.

I loved shooting morters off into the sky and making magic with all the pretty colors. I hate the fact that even though my abuser hasn't found me in 2 and a half months that he still has control over ruining the things I used to enjoy so much in life.

And then there is the triggers. Unfortunately, one of the new women in the shelter showered me with her presence in a multiple negative ways and triggered me in ways I has thought no longer were possible.

People are used to me being the strong one,to the point where I feel like they expect it. Often I feel like it's my job to set the example, and be strong no matter what's going on in my life.

I take my strength and I use it to help others that need strength, and I help them grow strong. Well unfortunately yesterday I broke down so hard I actually crawled under my bed and hid under it like a mental patient in a mental ward. I spent the last two days mostly hiding out in my room.

I just want to live a normal life and be happy. I always said I would never live in a trailer, but now the thoughts of living in a camper even, all by myself, seem like heaven. It's amazing how our experiences in life can change us so much.

Happy 4th everyone :)

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